“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been here all day.” She sighed and looked at her watch. “I have plans in town. Can I drop you off?”
As if it wasn’t bad enough to be going back to school, now I had to have my mom take me.
“Is it on the way?” I asked as I looked at my phone again. “I have to be there in fifteen.”
“You won’t be late.” She still hadn’t mentioned where she was going, but my anxiety was ratcheted even higher with this unexpected hiccup. I wasn’t even positive I was going until I came down to get the car keys, but now this felt like a sign.
“No, no. Don’t make that face,” Janice said, reading my thoughts as only a mom could. “We have plenty of time. But let’s leave right now. The roads are slick.”
In the car, Janice put a hand on my jumping leg. “I think it’s very lovely that you’re agreeing to help Cath.” She maneuvered carefully on the short drive into town, but I was so nervous, I couldn’t unclench myself enough to respond.
Every time the sick crept up my throat, I replayed Mari’s impassioned speech. She wouldn’t have asked me if she didn’t think I could help. This wasn’t some elaborate ruse to lure me back to high school just to mock me. As rain beat down on the windshield, I was beat down with a hundred memories I’d repressed or replaced with The Burnouts’ drum solos and screaming fans.
But now, even those memories of playing on stage were tainted. Was nothing in my past safe to think about? I didn’t want to be back here, where all of my biggest insecurities made me feel like a loser. This place where I was bullied and laughed at. The place that had felt like a prison to my teenage self. If my mom hadn’t been a teacher here, if Vander hadn’t been there to have my back, it would have been so much worse. Why had I agreed to do this?
Mari. Well, Cath. Of course. But the thought of letting Mari down hurt worse than the pain of harmless memories. At least those were in the past.
Janice turned into the school zone way too soon. I wasn’t sure that my knees would hold me up. This was ridiculous. I was a grown man who, by all outward appearances, was a huge success. I didn’t need to hold on to the past like this. I just wished my body didn’t act like it was being chased by cheetahs. Janice pulled up front to drop me off, and I stared at the entrance of the building. Wasn’t it supposed to seem smaller now?
I hadn’t had anxiety like this since backstage before a show. This clammy, fuzzy-headed terror made every obstacle seem insurmountable. This was why leaving the house was extremely overrated.
“Come on, now.” Janice rubbed a circle on my back. Absolutely absurd that the small gesture had my throat tightening. “I haven’t seen you like this in a while. Are you okay?”
I glanced over at her, and worry creased her brow. I could almost see her berating herself for encouraging me to get out of the house. If nothing else, I needed to be strong for her. She’d been my rock year after year; I wouldn’t let my issues become hers. I forced a smile. “I’m okay. Just weird being back here.”
Janice squeezed my shoulder. “Focus on all that you’ve accomplished. It’s just a building. You’re in control. And you’re doing a really great thing.”
I nodded, and she hugged me with one arm.
“Call me when you want me to come get you, okay?”
Hearing her say that in this place was like being thrown back in time. I was sixteen and being driven to school after sleeping in because my anxiety was so bad I couldn’t get out of bed.
I nodded and jumped out of the car with a final goodbye, sprinting to the doors to avoid being soaked. Once inside, the sinking dread of these familiar hallways made my feet heavy as I made my way to the front office.
Once I was checked in, I was about to be escorted to the band room when Mari came wogging past—her words, not mine. I would never say wogging in real life.
“Mari,” I called after her. She came to a halt, and I expected her shoes to make that squeal of tires braking too fast. To the office aide, I said, “Can she take me from here?”
“Of course, dear,” she said with a smile.
“Where’s the fire?” I asked Mari. Some of the tension I’d been feeling relaxed away at the sight of her.
“Leo? Oh. Hey.” She glanced at her watch. “Lord, is it time already?”
“Yep.” Wasn’t I a chump for watching the clock the entire day when she barely remembered that we were supposed to meet?
This Mari was a far cry from the breezy, relaxed version I’d glimpsed after a boatload of appetizers and a glass of red wine. Her hair was tossed up in a knot on her head with a pencil holding it in place. Her eyes wouldn’t sit still as they flicked through the mass of students exiting for the day. She shrugged out of a cardigan worn over a sleeveless silk top, fanning herself.
“Everything okay?” I asked, hands deep in the pockets of my jeans. My skin itched all over. Even though she was just a couple of years older than me, I had the same uncomfortable feeling I would have had being stopped by a teacher fifteen years ago.
Several passing students watched our exchange, and I pretended not to notice their curious glances.
“No. I’ve been running around like a greased-up pig all day. And now the flipping cherry on top is that Principal Pi—” She paused, remembering her surroundings. “Mr. Pindich told the football team they could use the rehearsal space to set up their free weights.”
“Can they do that?”
“They do sometimes. And normally, it’s—well, it’s not great because they leave puddles of sweat and little cups of water everywhere, and it’ll smell like feet for the next couple of days, but at least it doesn’t impact our rehearsals. But I specifically booked the room for you and Cath to practice.”
